As Usual
by coonskin
Summary: KITT has a heart-to-heart discussion with Bonnie about Michael


A/N: Bonnie's "broke as usual" greeting to Michael when he came to see her in the beginning of Knight of the Drones made me think up this little story as I wondered why exactly Michael might be broke all the time, given his most-expenses-covered, no-rent-or-mortgage life. This story ignores her ever leaving the Foundation team.

(KR)

Bonnie was focused intently on the readouts from her computer scanner. Poor KITT had about five different minor functions jarred or miscalibrated from this last mission, and she was painstakingly chasing out each one, lovingly fixing the car with as much precise care as a surgeon would approach a patient on the operating table. She was aware of Michael off to one side, sitting on a chair in the Foundation garage and watching her and KITT. He was at least quiet today, not joking as usual, and she was glad of it.

She liked Michael. She really did, more than she even let herself admit. He was an indispensable part of the team, and she had grown to enjoy their routine verbal sparring, but sometimes, on days like today when he had returned KITT this morning with several battle scars from their latest mission, the pure irritation that she had felt for him at first revived. He was sitting there well, whole, sipping coffee and eating a doughnut as if nothing had happened, while poor KITT was undergoing repairs. She knew their missions sometimes got dangerous, but she had no doubt that a lot of times there would have been easier methods to accomplish them than Michael's usual.

So today, she was glad of the quiet, even if he was here watching. She just didn't feel up to a typical round with him at the moment. She adjusted another setting on KITT.

Michael spoke up abruptly, breaking at least a 30-minute silence. "You know, Bonnie, I've been thinking. Do you realize what today is?"

She barely looked up from the car as she responded. "It's Tuesday," she said distractedly. "It's also not quite a week since payday, which I guess means you're already broke as usual, especially with a weekend in between. And we all know what you were probably doing with it."

Michael came to his feet so fast that he _did_ get her attention, and she actually turned away from KITT for a moment. His height, still prominent even now when she was so used to it, pressed in on her senses. He was frozen for a long moment, looking at her silently with some undefined expression in his blue eyes, then he simply wheeled around and stalked off.

Bonnie shook her head as the door to the garage slammed. "He's touchy today," she mused. "Maybe his weekend didn't go that well after all."

KITT's red scanner had been tracking the conversation, but he had been almost as quiet today so far as Michael had been. Now, though, he spoke up. "_Do_ you realize what today is, Bonnie?"

For the car, she took a few moments to consider instead of snapping off a reflex response as she had with Michael. She still drew a blank, though. "Um, it _is_ Tuesday. November 5th. And…" She stalled, scrambling for more significance, finding nothing.

KITT gave her a minute, then spoke up with an unusual edge on his voice - unusual in being applied to her, at least. "It's the anniversary of his being shot out in the desert and Wilton Knight finding him. Michael Long died two years ago today."

Bonnie literally dropped her calibrator. "Oh, damn."

"Indeed," KITT replied.

"I wasn't - I hadn't even realized." Yet hadn't she been aware that he was in a thoughtful mood today, more serious than his usual self, even before he had spoken?

"Furthermore," KITT continued, "Michael rarely actually has weekends. We just have the next assignment. Day of the week doesn't mean much to us, and we've worked and completed two cases since last payday."

She knew that. Of course, she knew that. Her comment hadn't really been a fair shot on any day, not just this one. "I'm sorry, KITT. I didn't take time to think; I just snapped off the first comeback that came to mind. I should have realized he wasn't quite in the mood for it today. Normally he doesn't mind a few jabs; it's business as usual for us."

"How do you know he doesn't mind it?" KITT asked.

Startled, she stared at the car. "He enjoys it, KITT. As much as…well, as much as I do."

"To some extent, yes, but he also uses it as a shield to hide behind. So do you, and there have been times when you hurt him with some comment. As you did now. Remember, Bonnie, I can track his vitals constantly through the commlink. Many times, he is not as nonchalant or as immune to your remarks as you think he is."

She sighed. "I'm sorry, KITT."

"It would seem to me that an apology should be given to the offended party rather than a proxy."

"You're right. I'll go find him." She put down her equipment and gave the gleaming black hood a pat.

"Bonnie, wait." KITT's voice stopped her before she had gotten ten feet away.

She turned back, confused. "Look, you're the one who just recommended that I go apologize to him."

"Yes, but on further consideration, I think it's time you had a little more information. It might improve your attitude."

She couldn't help flaring up a bit. "KITT, there is _nothing_ wrong with my attitude. Well, not most of the time. I'll admit I crossed the line right then, and I shouldn't have been so short with him. I did realize he had something on his mind; I was just more focused on you. But as for most of the time, you have to admit that he has a habit of bringing you back banged up constantly, while he just gets out with a smile and walks away unscathed. It does get a little irritating sometimes, for your sake."

"At the moment, he has a sprained left wrist, two bruised ribs, and a cut on his right forearm. The wrist and the knife cut are from this latest mission; the bruised ribs are from the mission before that. We stopped at a drugstore on the way back this morning to refill the first aid kit because he was out of multiple things."

She stared. "He was moving all right."

"He tries very hard to hide injuries from you and from Devon if at all possible. He even tries to hide them from me sometimes, although of course he can't. But it's not something he wants to talk about. Believe me, Bonnie, if you had a complete report after each mission on him like you can get from the scanners on me, you wouldn't think he routinely gets off lightly. Furthermore, you can fix me. I will be perfectly fine in another hour of work. He won't be, yet we will no doubt be sent out on another mission by tonight, even so."

She sighed again, then sank into the chair Michael had been sitting in until recently. It was still warm from his presence. "I had no idea."

"I know. That is the point. But as for your comment about him being broke and weekends, what do you think he spends his money on, Bonnie?"

She was uncertain all at once of the accuracy of her guesses, so she started explaining how she had arrived at them, showing KITT that she had been being logical, not just judgmental. "Well, he gets reimbursed for expenses in the field. He has no room and board, no mortgage or rent; he has a room provided here when he's not away. We cover everything related to you. No utilities. He can't have many routine bills, not like most people. I assumed that he…spends it on women."

"Wrong," KITT replied. "Oh, he likes women. He does genuinely appreciate their aesthetic appeal and enjoy their company, but his actions are all superficial and never go far. He spends the nights alone, Bonnie. The only woman he has ever been serious about since I've known him is Stevie."

Ah, yes, Stevie. She remembered how surprised she had been that first day when he had told her he had been engaged. At least that day, she had realized as he started to talk to her that he was totally serious and hadn't fired off some joking cutdown to his mood as she had a few minutes ago. But it was true, the thought of Michael settling down with and being committed to one woman was a bit hard for her to plug into her image. But he had made that decision before she had even met him, before any of her observations of him. And then he had had it ripped away from him.

Today. Two years ago today, his former life had ended out there in the desert as surely as if he had been murdered as intended. And while he had adapted and adjusted remarkably, it was undeniable that Wilton Knight never got the chance he'd meant to put the proposition to Michael in advance, to give him a choice. Wilton had still been watching and evaluating Michael, had been planning to approach him soon and open discussion, when Tanya's bullet had taken any choice away from both of them. Michael's physical condition that night had required immediate intervention; he never would have lived waiting for the police and EMS to arrive at that remote scene. So Wilton had picked him up unconscious and taken him over unasked, yet Bonnie knew that Michael actually had grown to like the old man once he was awake and interactive again. Bonnie wondered how she would have responded herself to waking up and finding that her whole life had ended and that she had a new face and identity prepicked that she had never voted for.

KITT was quiet, waiting out her thoughts. Finally, she gathered them back to the present. "But he really does seem to always be broke. What does he spend his paycheck on, KITT?"

"He gives it away," the car replied. "Anonymously. He uses me to do it electronically, carefully, untraceably. But he has made anonymous deposits at times into the bank accounts of his mother, Stevie, and the relatives of his dead partner, Muntzy. As well as many people we have encountered on missions. Especially people who have had innocent relatives die in the course of some case we were investigating. He keeps an entire list of deaths involved in his cases and reads it over sometimes."

Bonnie stared again. "Those weren't his fault, KITT. It was the criminals. There's a big difference between investigating somebody and being responsible personally for their actions."

"_I_ am aware of that," KITT replied. "Michael is not, at least not always. He is very good at blaming himself for things and feeling responsible, especially when he is injured or tired. He still blames himself for Muntzy's death, and he told me once that he would never be able to work in the field with another human partner. He couldn't take the feeling of responsibility for another one. He's lost too many. My sturdiness and repairability are the only reasons he can accept me; he does not treat those qualities of mine casually, regardless of how it seems to you at times."

She squirmed in the chair, remembering all the occasions she had accused him of just that. KITT's even voice went on. "Anyway, he does actually keep track of how these relatives and survivors from past cases are doing, and every time he gets paid, he sends most of it to somebody. I have questioned the practice myself, and he has said how fortunate he is to have basically no living expenses that aren't covered. He feels obligated to share that good fortune with others he's met who are struggling. And he always makes sure that his mother is doing okay. He also drives by her house sometimes, always in the dark, and just looks for lights. He knows he can't contact her, that he would put her in danger if he exposed his identity. He actually likes his new life, Bonnie. He was talking to me this morning, and he isn't dissatisfied, but I also know he does feel underappreciated at times, and even though he has found genuine purpose in this identity, he hasn't forgotten who he used to be. Just remember how much this life has cost him."

Bonnie shook her head, feeling guilty herself now. No, he hadn't forgotten. Unlike her with today's date. "I'm sorry, KITT. And yes, I know I need to say that to him."

"He does enjoy verbal sparring, Bonnie, but he also would appreciate knowing now and then that underneath that front, he truly is valued by you and Devon."

"I know." She stood up briskly. "Thank you for opening my eyes, KITT. Do you know where he is right now?"

"Of course," the car replied. "He's in the edge of the woods 210 yards northeast of the front corner of the mansion. He is standing still, leaning against a large tree."

"Thanks. I'll be back to finish fixing you later." She started out of the garage at a purposeful walk, then diverted to the phone on the wall, dialing Devon's extension. "Devon, it's Bonnie. Do you know what today is?"

"Tuesday," Devon replied distractedly, his mind obviously on some administrative detail. "November 5th."

"It's the anniversary of the day Michael was shot out in the desert."

Devon came to startled attention. "I'd completely forgotten."

"So had I. KITT had to clue me in. Listen, Devon, I'm sure there are several urgent things waiting as usual, but do we have to send him right back out? Couldn't we give him a little break, at least for the rest of today, maybe tomorrow, too?" She remembered KITT's list of how banged up he was currently.

"Of course. I'll give him a few days, in fact. He has been working hard, as he regularly tells us." Devon sighed. "In fact, he tells us that so regularly that there's a temptation to think he's only grandstanding and forget that he's absolutely correct. We do ask a lot of him."

"Yes, we do."

"I'll see if I can arrange something for tonight, too. Perhaps a special dinner, some acknowledgement from us."

"Good idea. I need to go find him now and apologize, but I'll talk to you more about this later."

"Yes, indeed. Thank you, Bonnie."

She hung up and left the garage. She found Michael precisely where KITT had said he was, but without directions, she might have walked right on past him. In his dark clothes and jacket, he blended so perfectly into the shadows that he seemed a part of the tree trunk he was leaning against. He was looking the other way, into the woods, not toward the mansion. "Michael?" she called, not wanting to get too close before he realized and startle him.

He jumped anyway and wheeled around to face her. She realized as she approached that he actually had tears brimming in his eyes, though he blinked them away furiously.

She came up to him, wondering where to begin. She wasn't used to serious conversation between them, but on the other hand, neither was he, and he had at least been willing to risk it, had been trying to start a real conversation today until she had shot him down. She held out her arms, and after a moment, he took a step, closing the distance between them. She hugged him tightly and began with the simplest yet hardest sentence.

"Michael, I'm sorry."


End file.
